


Movie Nights

by dierdele



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M, NSFW, and ben is just a hopeless romantic, but then it got smutty, it was supposed to just be soft cuddles, madders wears gucci pyjamas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 06:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18330782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dierdele/pseuds/dierdele
Summary: It was always just movies and popcorn. Sometimes James would fall asleep on Ben, but that was all. It was safe ground.But this? This curious touching of lips and James’ unsteady breathing and the hand that has found its way up Ben’s shirt? None of this feels like safe ground. It feels like a sinkhole.And Ben is falling.





	Movie Nights

**Author's Note:**

> For Chelsea <3

Ben doesn’t know who started it.

It was always just a movie and popcorn in Ben’s cinema room. Then it was a movie and popcorn and James falling asleep on the sofa. Then it was a movie and popcorn and James falling asleep on _Ben._ Somewhere in between Iron Man 2 and The Avengers, James started snuggling up to Ben regardless of whether he was tired or not. It was just a stray leg thrown carelessly across Ben’s lap at first, and then a head on Ben’s shoulder, and eventually a hand that found its way to the back of Ben’s neck, where it came to rest, fingertips fluttering at the base of Ben’s hairline.

By the time they reach Guardians of the Galaxy, Ben doesn’t bother prepping the other end of the sofa with the nice scatter cushions anymore. James just throws himself down at Ben’s side, already tucking his feet beneath him and carefully edging his way into Ben’s personal space.

“Popcorn?” Ben offers, shaking the bowl on his lap.

James grins and looks up at Ben with a mischievous smile. “Feed me,” he instructs.

Ben brushes off the comment with a sigh and sets the bowl back down on his thighs. He turns his attention to the movie for a while, letting the comfortable silence settle between them.  

Ten minutes in, James makes a show of yawning and stretching out his arms above his head. “Tired,” he mumbles. His body deflates and as it does so, James brings his head to rest on Ben’s shoulder.

_As if you need an excuse,_ Ben thinks.

“Tired, baby?” He says quietly, scratching the top of James’ head affectionately. Even as the words leave his mouth, they sound weird. He wants to retract them, to say something normal instead. It was supposed to be a joke, but he didn’t use the right tone of voice and James isn’t laughing. He’s just nodding lazily against Ben’s shoulder. He brings his knees up to his chest and folds himself neatly against Ben’s side.

It’s surprising how well and how easily he fits there.

Instead of voicing how nice this feels, how warm James is at his side, and how utterly weird he feels about calling him _baby,_ Ben stuffs his mouth with popcorn. Kernel after kernel, he pops them in his mouth and lets them melt on his tongue. It’s easier to busy himself with eating popcorn than it is to ask James why he’s got his hand on Ben’s chest, resting right over his heart. It’s thudding away beneath his ribs, picking up pace whenever James nuzzles into Ben’s shoulder a little, or his hand twitches on his chest, or his knee inches forward until it’s pressed against the outside of Ben’s thigh. He wonders if James is noticing the fluttering of his heart, the skips and the jumps and the nervous hammering. He wonders if it’s giving him away.

“Feed me,” James says again. It’s softer this time, a little less bratty.

Ben picks up a piece of popcorn and brings it to James’ waiting mouth. His fingers accidentally brush James’ lower lip and James’ hand twitches against his chest again.

One by one, Ben continues feeding him popcorn, and each time he gets a little more confident and perhaps a little more cocky. He presses a handful of popcorn into James’ mouth, letting his fingers slip inside too, pretending he’s just being boisterous for the comedic value and not because he likes the warm, wet feeling of James’ tongue.

\--

When they reach Ant-Man, James turns up to Ben’s house already in pyjamas. They’re Gucci, and completely ridiculous, and he’s even matched them with furry turquoise Gucci slippers that Ben has never seen before and would be quite happy to never see again.

“What are those?” He asks with a grimace, pointing down to the offensive footwear as they walk through Ben’s pristine house towards his cinema room.

“Fashion,” James says, as if this is in any way a sufficient answer, or in any way correct.

Ben hums and glances back at James over his shoulder. “Not sure that really constitutes fashion.”

James responds by leaping onto Ben’s back and wrapping his arms around Ben’s chest, grinning against the side of his head when Ben stumbles a little in his attempt to catch him.

It’s not that Ben can’t carry him - he is barely 175cm after all - it’s just that he wasn’t expecting the sudden attack, and that’s why he stumbles before finding his footing, before he grabs at James’ thighs and holds them tight against his waist.

“Take me to my seat,” James instructs.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Ben sighs, but he sets off towards the cinema room anyway, the ridiculous lump of his best friend nestled on his back.

James squeezes his legs around Ben’s waist and jostles himself upwards.

“You’re ridiculous,” Ben says.

James smiles against Ben’s hair. “Yeah, but you love me.”

_And don’t you know it,_ Ben thinks, but he dismisses the thought before he can linger on it too long.

“Here we are, your highness.” Ben eases James to the ground and opens the door for him, letting James saunter in to cinema room ahead of him. He turns the lights out as he goes, bathing the room in complete darkness.

Ben stares at him in confusion. They haven’t got the projector on yet, so they literally can’t see a thing. He walks into the room and flicks the lights back on.

“No,” James turns and says. He points at the light switch where Ben’s fingers are still hovering. “I like the darkness. Turn them off.”

Ben does as he’s told, but he doesn't know why. _This is stupid_ , he thinks. The door has closed behind them now and Ben can’t see a damn thing. He digs his phone out of his pocket and turns on the torch, flashing the light towards James in search of an explanation, but James is walking away still, heading straight for the sofa and crashing down on to it like this is all completely normal.

“Come here,” James says quietly, almost _too_ quietly. For a moment, Ben wonders if his brain has made it up, but then James looks over at him, squinting because the torch is too bright and too glaring. Ben can see James’ eyes searching for him behind the torch.

His hands are shaking when he fumbles to turn it off. The darkness falls heavy again, masking the few remaining meters between them.

“Come here,” James says again, his voice the only real thing in this room right now. This time, Ben is sure he didn’t imagine it.

He steps forward hesitantly, trying to remember exactly how far away the sofa is. He takes one small step, and then another, and another, until he bumps into the arm of the sofa and James reaches out, wraps his fingers tentatively around James’ wrist, and gently pulls on it.

James is lying down, propped up on his elbow, or so it seems that way. Ben can’t be too sure. He’s landed next to him, flat on his back, and he thinks he can feel James breathing down on him, his face probably just inches above his own.

There’s not a single coherent thought running through his brain. He can’t see, can’t move. Can’t figure out why his heart is racing again, thumping almost painfully loud in his chest.

“James?”

Ben raises his hand, feeling around the small, empty space in front of him until his fingers come into contact with James’ cheek. He touches it, lets the back of his fingers stroke the skin there, falling down to where the stubble begins, and then he feels James break into a smile.

“Ben.”

As if by gravity, Ben’s fingers are pulled towards James’ mouth. He runs his thumb along James’ lower lip and pauses, wonders if this is okay. Surely, _surely_ any second now they’re both going to laugh this off. They’ll shove each other a bit, roll their eyes at how silly that all just was. They’ll put the next movie on and they’ll share popcorn and James will fall asleep on him, because that’s all safe ground to them now. This? This curious touching of lips and James’ unsteady breathing and the hand that has found its way up Ben’s shirt, ghosting over his lower stomach? None of this feels like safe ground. It feels like a sinkhole.

And Ben is falling.

“Can I…” James begins, but something stops him. His sentence fizzles away. His voice is shaky and unsure, not at all like the confident James who darts around the training ground most days, daring Ben to chase him, to challenge him.

Ben tugs on James’ lower lip with his thumb, curious to see if the rest of his question will spill out of him. The words are there somewhere, swallowed up and tangled in his mouth. Ben is almost certain he knows what they are, or the gist of them. _Can I? Can we? Is this?_

“Is this okay?” Ben whispers. Like James’ hand isn’t still up his shirt, tracing the outline of his abs and fluttering against his hip bones. He doesn’t even know what _this_ is, but it’s making his head swim.

James nods slowly and presses his lips to Ben’s index finger, planting two soft kisses there.

It’s the gesture Ben didn’t even know he was looking for. He moves his hand around to the back of James’ neck and slowly inches him closer, evaporating the darkness between them. He lets James’ forehead come to rest against his own, and then he leans up to rub the ends of their noses together. It draws a small, nervous laugh out of James. Just enough to ease away any uncertainties, any doubts that this is, in fact, _okay_.

It’s James who closes the gap, who brings his mouth to Ben’s in a warm, sweeping kiss.

There’s a moment of hesitation, when James pulls away slightly and Ben desperately tries to search for him in the dark, to meet his crystal blue eyes, to find the answers in them that he’s desperately seeking. _Please don’t regret that,_ is the only thought his brain can muster in the second that James separates their mouths. And maybe he says it out loud, or maybe his hand on the small of James’ back says it for him, but something shifts and James leans back in, kisses him with the confidence and the charisma of that boy who chases him around the training ground.

_James, James, James._

His hand is hungry inside Ben’s shirt, his fingers traversing over Ben’s rib cage, wanting to explore every inch of something that was previously forbidden. He licks into Ben’s mouth and Ben shifts his weight to allow James to climb on top of him, to straddle his hips.

This time, James doesn’t pull away. He keeps his mouth on Ben’s even when he’s smiling, laughing, blushing because Ben is lightly scratching his lower back and breathing his name against his lips like it’s the only word he’ll ever need.  

“Here, this,” James mumbles, still kissing the corner of Ben’s mouth. He sits upright and fumbles with the hem of Ben’s shirt, begins to peel it off of him until it’s up over his arms and head and James has tossed it to one side, lost in the darkness that surrounds them.

“Yours,” Ben says. He grabs at the front of James’ ridiculous Gucci pyjama top and lifts it over his head. “I can’t see you,” he whines. His eyes have begun to adjust to the darkness but all he can make out is the outline of James’ body, the line of his shoulders and the mess of sandy blonde hair.

James leans into him and kisses along his jawline, down his neck, and pauses at his collarbone. “You can feel me, though,” he whispers. He licks a long, agonising line up Ben’s collarbone and Ben feels a knot forming in his stomach.

“Mhmm,” Ben mumbles, his voice throatier than usual. He closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing when James moves back to the crook of his neck and bites at the skin where it meets his shoulder. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but it’s hard enough that Ben can feel himself straining against his boxers.

James licks the skin where his teeth have left their etchings. It’s soothing yet carnal at the same time. Ben wants James to mark him all over, to pepper him in love bites and gentle scratches. He wants to know that when he leaves this room and can finally see again, he’ll have something on his body that tells him this was all real, that it really happened.

“Can I?” James mumbles between kisses. He’s dragging his hips back and pressing into Ben in all the right ways. Ben doesn’t know what the question is but he’s fairly certain the answer is _yes._

James shuffles backwards so that he’s sitting on Ben’s thighs. He leans forward and begins trailing kisses down Ben’s bare chest until he reaches his stomach. Ben’s very unhelpful brain turns to mush as he considers where James might go with this. _He’s going to suck you off,_ he tells himself, but he pushes the thought away before he can get his hopes up.

“ _James._ ” The name slips from him as easily as breathing. He doesn’t know how many times he’s said it now, but the name is still echoing around the room.

James doesn’t answer, but he does dip further down Ben’s stomach, his mouth brushing at his waistband. Ben lifts his hips to meet James’ teasing touches and James smiles coyly against his skin.

“Patience, Chilly,” James whispers in the darkness.  

Ben sighs and bites his lower lip. James is torturing him, grazing his teeth along Ben’s hip bones and mouthing at the waistband of his boxer shorts. He tugs Ben’s joggers down just enough to make him blush, even though James can’t see a thing.

_He can feel it though_ , Ben reminds himself. There’s no hiding how hard he is and James keeps brushing his mouth past the head of his cock, making Ben squirm a little and buck his hips in desperation.

He’s never wanted anymore more than he wants this. His heart is in his mouth, there’s a tingling sensation in his stomach, and his toes are curling. He can’t see but he can feel _everything._ He can feel James’ fingers scrambling at his waistband, and then yanking his boxers - and his joggers - down to his knees.

It happens before Ben can even prepare himself for it, which is why he lets out a choked, guttural moan when he suddenly feels James’ mouth on his cock. It’s warm and wet and James wastes no time at all familiarising himself with Ben’s body. He dips his head and then pulls his mouth away slowly, over and over, until he picks up the pace that leaves Ben panting.

Ben reaches down and finds the back of James’ head. It’s all he can do to bury his hands in the messy blonde hair and clutch at it as a way of grounding himself. Something familiar to hold on to in the midst of this unexplored territory. James’ mouth, with his cheeky smile and his pearly white teeth, is familiar - but James mouth at the base of his cock is _not._ His thoughts are a train-wreck of _when did he learn to suck dick like this?_ And _am I allowed to come in his mouth?_ And _do I need to warn him?_

He manages to choke out a short, frenzied, “ _James-_ " before he’s holding James’ head and bucking his hips. The words and the warnings get tied up in his mouth. It’s just a low, breathless moan that escapes him when he comes in James’ mouth.

His entire body uncoils and his knees go weak - the way they do after he’s been training all day. His head swims. He wonders if he’s drunk, or if this is all a dream, but then he’s pulled sharply back to reality when James ducks his head to gently suck on the tip of his cock, making Ben’s legs twitch involuntarily.

The rest just happens like clockwork, like they do this all the time and it’s all just standard procedure. Between them, they manage to pull Ben’s joggers back up, and then James settles back at his side and Ben turns towards him, holds James’ face in his hands so he can smother him in shaky, dazed kisses. There’s an unfamiliar taste in his mouth, and then it suddenly dawns on Ben that none of this should taste familiar. None of this is just standard procedure.

_What the fuck did we just do?_

He pulls away, maybe too quickly. James freezes next to him. For the first time all evening, Ben is glad the lights are off. He doesn’t want to see James’ mouth still wet and warm with his come. It’s all too much. It was supposed to just be a movie and popcorn. James was supposed to fall asleep on him, that was all.

“Chilly,” James says into the charged air between them. His voice is sure and steady, and _familiar._ It’s James, it’s _Madders,_ it’s his best friend and his teammate and the stupid idiot who jumps on his back and makes Ben feed him popcorn.

_Oh._

“Hey,” James continues. His voice is softer now. He moves his hand across to Ben’s waist and strokes the skin just beneath his ribs. “It’s okay.”

_You kissed me there earlier._

“It’s okay.” James says it again. It’s a statement, not a question.

_Why didn’t we do this sooner?_

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” James leans in and captures Ben’s mouth in tender kiss. “We can just watch the movie.”

_What if I want to talk about it?_

Ben kisses him back. “Thank you,” he finds himself saying.

“For what?” James asks, chuckling.

“That,” Ben whispers. “This.”

“This?”

“For turning out the lights.”

“I like the darkness,” James says.

_I like you,_ Ben wants to say, but he doesn’t. Because that doesn’t feel like safe ground just yet. So instead he settles with, “I like it too.”

But what he means is _I like where this is going._


End file.
